The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

  It may be I will go with you—but yet I’ll pause,

  For I am loath to break our country’s laws.

  Nor friends nor foes, to me welcome you are.

  Things past redress are now with me past care.

  Exeunt

  2.4 Enter the Earl of Salisbury and a Welsh Captain

  WELSH CAPTAIN

  My lord of Salisbury, we have stayed ten days,

  And hardly kept our countrymen together,

  And yet we hear no tidings from the King.

  Therefore we will disperse ourselves. Farewell.

  SALISBURY

  Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welshman.

  The King reposeth all his confidence in thee.

  WELSH CAPTAIN

  ’Tis thought the King is dead. We will not stay.

  The bay trees in our country are all withered,

  And meteors fright the fixèd stars of heaven.

  The pale-faced moon looks bloody on the earth,

  And lean-looked prophets whisper fearful change.

  Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap;

  The one in fear to lose what they enjoy,

  The other to enjoy by rage and war.

  These signs forerun the death or fall of kings.

  Farewell. Our countrymen are gone and fled,

  As well assured Richard their king is dead.

  Exit

  SALISBURY

  Ah, Richard! With the eyes of heavy mind

  I see thy glory, like a shooting star,

  Fall to the base earth from the firmament.

  Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west,

  Witnessing storms to come, woe, and unrest.

  Thy friends are fled to wait upon thy foes,

  And crossly to thy good all fortune goes. Exit

  3.1 Enter Bolingbroke Duke of Lancaster and Hereford, the Duke of York, the Earl of Northumberland, ⌈Lord Ross, Harry Percy, and Lord Willoughby⌉

  BOLINGBROKE Bring forth these men.

  Enter Bushy and Green, guarded as prisoners

  Bushy and Green, I will not vex your souls,

  Since presently your souls must part your bodies,

  With too much urging your pernicious lives,

  For ’twere no charity. Yet to wash your blood

  From off my hands, here in the view of men

  I will unfold some causes of your deaths.

  You have misled a prince, a royal king,

  A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments,

  By you unhappied and disfigured clean.

  You have, in manner, with your sinful hours

  Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him,

  Broke the possession of a royal bed,

  And stained the beauty of a fair queen’s cheeks

  With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs.

  Myself—a prince by fortune of my birth,

  Near to the King in blood, and near in love

  Till you did make him misinterpret me—

  Have stooped my neck under your injuries,

  And sighed my English breath in foreign clouds,

  Eating the bitter bread of banishment,

  Whilst you have fed upon my signories,

  Disparked my parks and felled my forest woods,

  From my own windows torn my household coat,

  Razed out my imprese, leaving me no sign,

  Save men’s opinions and my living blood,

  To show the world I am a gentleman.

  This and much more, much more than twice all this,

  Condemns you to the death.—See them delivered over

  To execution and the hand of death.

  BUSHY

  More welcome is the stroke of death to me

  Than Bolingbroke to England.

  GREEN

  My comfort is that heaven will take our souls,

  And plague injustice with the pains of hell.

  BOLINGBROKE

  My lord Northumberland, see them dispatched.

  Exit Northumberland, with Bushy and Green, guarded

  Uncle, you say the Queen is at your house.

  For God’s sake, fairly let her be intreated.

  Tell her I send to her my kind commends.

  Take special care my greetings be delivered.

  YORK

  A gentleman of mine I have dispatched

  With letters of your love to her at large.

  BOLINGBROKE

  Thanks, gentle uncle.—Come, lords, away,

  To fight with Glyndwr and his complices.

  A while to work, and after, holiday.

  Exeunt

  3.2 ⌈Flourish.⌉ Enter King Richard, the Duke of Aumerle, the Bishop of Carlisle, and ⌈soldiers, with drum and colours⌉

  KING RICHARD

  Harlechly Castle call they this at hand?

  AUMERLE

  Yea, my lord. How brooks your grace the air

  After your late tossing on the breaking seas?

  KING RICHARD

  Needs must I like it well. I weep for joy

  To stand upon my kingdom once again.

  He touches the ground

  Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand,

  Though rebels wound thee with their horses’ hoofs.

  As a long-parted mother with her child

  Plays fondly with her tears, and smiles in meeting,

  So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee my earth,

  And do thee favours with my royal hands.

  Feed not thy sovereign’s foe, my gentle earth,

  Nor with thy sweets comfort his ravenous sense;

  But let thy spiders that suck up thy venom

  And heavy-gaited toads lie in their way,

  Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet

  Which with usurping steps do trample thee.

  Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies,

  And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower

  Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder,

  Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch

  Throw death upon thy sovereign’s enemies.—

  Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords.

  This earth shall have a feeling, and these stones

  Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king

  Shall falter under foul rebellion’s arms.

  BISHOP OF CARLISLE

  Fear not, my lord. That power that made you king

  Hath power to keep you king in spite of all.

  AUMERLE

  He means, my lord, that we are too remiss,

  Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security,

  Grows strong and great in substance and in friends.

  KING RICHARD

  Discomfortable cousin, know‘st thou not

  That when the searching eye of heaven is hid

  Behind the globe, that lights the lower world,

  Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen

  In murders and in outrage bloody here;

  But when from under this terrestrial ball

  He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines,

  And darts his light through every guilty hole,

  Then murders, treasons, and detested sins,

  The cloak of night being plucked from off their backs,

  Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves?

  So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke,

  Who all this while hath revelled in the night

  Whilst we were wand’ring with the Antipodes,

  Shall see us rising in our throne, the east,

  His treasons will sit blushing in his face,

  Not able to endure the sight of day,

  But, self-affrighted, tremble at his sin.

  Not all the water in the rough rude sea

  Can wash the balm from an anointed king.

  The breath of worldly men cannot depose

  The deputy elected by the Lord.

  For every man that Bolingbroke hath press
ed

  To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown,

  God for his Richard hath in heavenly pay

  A glorious angel. Then if angels fight,

  Weak men must fall; for heaven still guards the right.

  Enter the Earl of Salisbury

  Welcome, my lord. How far off lies your power?

  SALISBURY

  Nor nea’er nor farther off, my gracious lord,

  Than this weak arm. Discomfort guides my tongue,

  And bids me speak of nothing but despair.

  One day too late, I fear me, noble lord,

  Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth.

  O, call back yesterday, bid time return,

  And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men.

  Today, today, unhappy day too late,

  Overthrows thy joys, friends, fortune, and thy state;

  For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead,

  Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispersed, and fled.

  AUMERLE

  Comfort, my liege. Why looks your grace so pale?

  KING RICHARD

  But now the blood of twenty thousand men

  Did triumph in my face, and they are fled;

  And till so much blood thither come again

  Have I not reason to look pale and dead?

  All souls that will be safe fly from my side,

  For time hath set a blot upon my pride.

  AUMERLE

  Comfort, my liege. Remember who you are.

  KING RICHARD

  I had forgot myself. Am I not King?

  Awake, thou sluggard majesty, thou sleep’st!

  Is not the King’s name forty thousand names?

  Arm, arm, my name! A puny subject strikes

  At thy great glory. Look not to the ground,

  Ye favourites of a king: are we not high?

  High be our thoughts. I know my uncle York

  Hath power enough to serve our turn.

  Enter Scrope

  But who comes here?

  SCROPE

  More health and happiness betide my liege

  Than can my care-tuned tongue deliver him.

  KING RICHARD

  Mine ear is open and my heart prepared.

  The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold.

  Say, is my kingdom lost? Why ’twas my care,

  And what loss is it to be rid of care?

  Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we?

  Greater he shall not be. If he serve God

  We’ll serve Him too, and be his fellow so.

  Revolt our subjects? That we cannot mend.

  They break their faith to God as well as us.

  Cry woe, destruction, ruin, loss, decay:

  The worst is death, and death will have his day.

  SCROPE

  Glad am I that your highness is so armed

  To bear the tidings of calamity.

  Like an unseasonable stormy day,

  Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores

  As if the world were all dissolved to tears,

  So high above his limits swells the rage

  Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land

  With hard bright steel, and hearts harder than steel.

  Whitebeards have armed their thin and hairless scalps

  Against thy majesty. Boys with women’s voices

  Strive to speak big, and clap their female joints no

  In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown.

  Thy very beadsmen learn to bend their bows

  Of double-fatal yew against thy state.

  Yea, distaff-women manage rusty bills

  Against thy seat. Both young and old rebel,

  And all goes worse than I have power to tell.

  KING RICHARD

  Too well, too well thou tell’st a tale so ill.

  Where is the Earl of Wiltshire? Where is Bagot?

  What is become of Bushy, where is Green,

  That they have let the dangerous enemy

  Measure our confines with such peaceful steps?

  If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it.

  I warrant they have made peace with Bolingbroke.

  SCROPE

  Peace have they made with him indeed, my lord.

  KING RICHARD

  O villains, vipers damned without redemption!

  Dogs easily won to fawn on any man I

  Snakes in my heart-blood warmed, that sting my heart!

  Three Judases, each one thrice-worse than Judas

  Would they make peace? Terrible hell make war

  Upon their spotted souls for this offence!

  SCROPE

  Sweet love, I see, changing his property,

  Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate.

  Again uncurse their souls. Their peace is made

  With heads, and not with hands. Those whom you

  curse

  Have felt the worst of death’s destroying wound,

  And lie full low, graved in the hollow ground.

  AUMERLE

  Is Bushy, Green, and the Earl of Wiltshire dead?

  SCROPE

  Ay, all of them at Bristol lost their heads.

  AUMERLE

  Where is the Duke my father, with his power?

  KING RICHARD

  No matter where. Of comfort no man speak.

  Let’s talk of graves, of worms and epitaphs,

  Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes

  Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.

  Let’s choose executors and talk of wills—

  And yet not so, for what can we bequeath

  Save our deposed bodies to the ground?

  Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke’s;

  And nothing can we call our own but death,

  And that small model of the barren earth

  Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.

  ⌈Sitting⌉ For God’s sake, let us sit upon the ground,

  And tell sad stories of the death of kings—

  How some have been deposed, some slain in war,

  Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed,

  Some poisoned by their wives, some sleeping killed,

  All murdered. For within the hollow crown

  That rounds the mortal temples of a king

  Keeps Death his court; and there the antic sits,

  Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp,

  Allowing him a breath, a little scene,

  To monarchize, be feared, and kill with looks,

  Infusing him with self and vain conceit,

  As if this flesh which walls about our life

  Were brass impregnable; and humoured thus,

  Comes at the last, and with a little pin

  Bores through his castle wall; and farewell, king.

  Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood

  With solemn reverence. Throw away respect,

  Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty,

  For you have but mistook me all this while.

  I live with bread, like you; feel want,

  Taste grief, need friends. Subjected thus,

  How can you say to me I am a king?

  BISHOP OF CARLISLE

  My lord, wise men ne’er wail their present woes,

  But presently prevent the ways to wail.

  To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength,

  Gives in your weakness strength unto your foe;

  And so your follies fight against yourself.

  Fear, and be slain. No worse can come to fight;

  And fight and die is death destroying death,

  Where fearing dying pays death servile breath.

  AUMERLE

  My father hath a power. Enquire of him,

  And learn to make a body of a limb.

  KING RICHARD ⌈standing⌉

  Thou chid’st me well. Proud Bolingbroke, I come

  To change blows with thee fo
r our day of doom.

  This ague-fit of fear is overblown.

  An easy task it is to win our own.

  Say, Scrope, where lies our uncle with his power?

  Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be sour.

  SCROPE

  Men judge by the complexion of the sky

  The state and inclination of the day.

  So may you by my dull and heavy eye

  My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say.

  I play the torturer by small and small

  To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken.

  Your uncle York is joined with Bolingbroke,

  And all your northern castles yielded up,

  And all your southern gentlemen in arms

  Upon his faction.

  KING RICHARD Thou hast said enough.

  (To Aumerle) Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth

  Of that sweet way I was in to despair.

  What say you now? What comfort have we now?

  By heaven, I’ll hate him everlastingly

  That bids me be of comfort any more.

  Go to Flint Castle; there I’ll pine away.

  A king, woe’s slave, shall kingly woe obey.

  That power I have, discharge, and let them go

  To ear the land that hath some hope to grow;

  For I have none. Let no man speak again

  To alter this, for counsel is but vain.

  AUMERLE

  My liege, one word.

  KING RICHARD

  He does me double wrong

  That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue.

  Discharge my followers. Let them hence away

  From Richard’s night to Bolingbroke’s fair day.

  Exeunt

  3.3 Enter Bolingbroke Duke of Lancaster and Hereford, the Duke of York, the Earl of Northumberland, ⌈and soldiers, with drum and colours⌉

  BOLINGBROKE

  So that by this intelligence we learn

  The Welshmen are dispersed, and Salisbury

  Is gone to meet the King, who lately landed

  With some few private friends upon this coast.

  NORTHUMBERLAND

  The news is very fair and good, my lord.

  Richard not far from hence hath hid his head.

  YORK

  It would beseem the Lord Northumberland

  To say ‘King Richard’. Alack the heavy day

  When such a sacred king should hide his head!

  NORTHUMBERLAND

  Your grace mistakes. Only to be brief

  Left I his title out.

  YORK

  The time hath been,

  Would you have been so brief with him, he would

  Have been so brief with you to shorten you,